


The Social Worker

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is Neal really reformed?  (fixed)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

"Agent Burke?"  Peter looked up from his work to see a woman standing by his office door.  "Linda Glenhardt. I called yesterday?"

Glenhard looked young.  Forced to guess, Peter would have said late twenties, early thirties, tops.  In jeans and sporting a ponytail, a bag slung over her shoulder, she looked at least half a decade younger.  If he saw her on the street he'd have pegged her as a student.  Not the kind of woman he'd associate with super-maxes, dealing with convicts doing hard time.

"You *are* Agent Burke?"  Glendhardt tried again.

The woman's voice forced Peter to return to the present, and he realized he'd been staring.  "Right, right, from Sing Sing.  Come on in."  Peter got up to offer his guest a seat.  "You wanted to discuss Neal Caffrey?"  Down in the bullpen, Neal was sitting at his desk.  He was supposed to be writing his report on last night's job.  Peter closed the door.

"That's right."  Glenhardt took the proffered seat.  "As I said on the phone, I've been assigned as Mr. Cafffrey's case worker.  My job is to ensure he's in a positive reinforcing rehabilitative environment.  Spot potential problems and offer solutions."   She rummaged in her bag for a second before producing a notebook labeled 'Caffrey'.  She flipped through it idly.  "This really should have been done a couple of years ago, but his case fell through the cracks, so to speak.  Mind if I take notes?"

"Eh, yeah, sure, go ahead."   Peter leaned back in his chair with a slight smile.  Not only did she look like one, she was also acting like a student.  He wouldn't have survived university without the help of of those girls who would faithfully record, in beautiful script, every word spoken by the lecturer.

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Caffrey, of course, but I wanted to speak to you first, as you're acting as his probation officer."  
    
"I wouldn't say-" Peter started to object, but he was quickly cut off.

"You monitor his actions and follow up on who he sees?"

"Yeah."  Peter felt he was losing control of this talk, or discussion, or interview, or whatever it was Glenhardt thought she was doing.  "Look, I appreciate your thoroughness, but there's really no more positive environment for Neal than this one."

"How so?" Her pen was poised in her hand.

Peter gestured vaguely around.  "He's working, making a positive contribution to fighting crime."  Wasn't it obvious?

"I would say that's helping *you*.  How is it helping Mr. Caffrey?"

Through his glass office window, Peter could see Neal surreptitiously sneaking glances in his direction.

"Well, for one, Neal is now putting criminals away, which means he's constantly faced with the consequences of crime, and he sees it's no fluke that he was caught.  And second, and I think more importantly, he's surrounded by positive role models in a supervised environment.  Here at work, of course, but also when he's off - my wife and I invite him to dinner once or twice a week, he sees what it's like to have a normal, stable family life.  Unlike a PO, he knows he can come to me with any problem or dilemma he has, as a friend."

"And he does?"

"Yes. Definitely."  He waited a moment while she scribbled.  "Neal has made tremendous strides over the past couple of years.  In the past he wouldn't think twice about robbing you blind if it suited his interests."

"And now?"  she prompted, looking up at him.

"Now?" Peter thought how best to put it.  "He might test the boundaries every so often, but he knows where the line is, and he will not cross it."  Except, of course, if he was faced with the temptation of a multi-billion dollar stolen Nazi treasure, a small voice in his mind objected.  But even then, Peter knew that Neal had learned his lesson.

"Neal's a model CI, we've got interest from other agencies who want to emulate what we've done here.  Of course, he's an excellent asset for us, but it's also great for him.  The DOJ sees him as model for reform-"

"I don't work for the DOJ." Glenhardt cut him off again.

"Yeah, well, but-"

"My main concern here is Mr. Caffrey."

Peter was getting fed up with these innuendos.  This woman did not have a monopoly on having Neal's best interests at heart.  "So is mine."  He held her gaze for a full minute, and was secretly satisfied to see that she broke contact first.  "I've chased Neal Caffrey for three years, and I know what he was capable of back then.  I've worked with him since he was released.  Believe me, he's a completely different man now.  He was given an opportunity here to get his life back on track, and he grabbed it."

The social worker nodded quietly, noting down a few more points before she looked back up at Peter.  "Thank you agent Burke, that was most helpful.  Could I borrow Mr. Caffrey for an hour or so?"


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Neal idly flipped a pen in his hands as he stared at the blank form on the screen in front of him.  He didn't think he'll ever get the hang of writing Fed reports.    
  
A few days ago a shipment of designer clothing knockoffs from Russia was stopped by customs, who alerted the Feds.  Peter suspected this was the tip of the iceberg and so Neal spent the previous evening with the importer, liberally sprinkling  healthy doeses of vodka and Caffrey Charm (TM).  Peter was right, of course, the guy was a front for an international money-laundering operation.  And now Neal had his foot in the door.  
  
Conning criminals was challenging and exciting.  Translating that to Federalese?  Mind numbingly boring.  
  
Besides, his heart wasn't into it right now.  He glanced towards Peter's office, where Peter was closeted with his mystery guest.  As a convict working in an FBI office, Neal made it his business to know what was going on around White Collar Division.  Know thine enemy, forewarned is forearmed etc etc.  But nobody seemed to know who this lady was.  She had stopped by his desk when she came in, and he had smiled and at her question graciously directed her to Peter's office, but he didn't get anything out of her.  
  
This could be a new case.  Or it could be about him.  Neal wasn't so narcistic as to think that the White Collar division revolved around him.  On the other hand, as Mozzie liked to say, it never hurt to be too paranoid.  Had he taken that advice a decade ago, he wouldn't be sitting here with a tracking device on his ankle.  
  
He tried thinking what he could have done wrong.  He hadn't stolen anything.  Of value.  Recently.  That he could remember.    
  
He glanced up again at Peter's office.  Peter caught his eye and gestured him to come over.  Excellent.  This *was* about him.    
  
  
\-----------  
  
Neal entered Peter's office, hands in his pockets, exuding nonchalance.  Peter looked upset.  Not good.  "Hey, Peter!"  
  
But he didn't sount too upset when he turned to Neal.  "Neal.  Meet Linda Glendhardt, from Sing Sing."  
  
"My home away from home."  Neal said with a quick smile.  He shook hands, mentally taking note of her no-nonsense shake.  
  
"She's here to check on your progress."  Peter added helpfully.  
  
"Actually, Mr. Caffrey, I'm preparing a report on your rehabilitation environment."    
  
"Please, call me Neal."  In his experience, 'Mr. Caffrey' usually meant trouble.  Beaurocratic prison officials, particulalry ones who took the trouble to look you up, were always trouble.  
  
"Neal, sure.  Call me Linda." She smiled at him.  "Agent Burke graciously agreed to give you an hour off to answer a few questions for me."  
  
Neal glanced at Peter.  "I'm always glad to answer questions."    
  
Peter turned to Glenhardt.  "Right.  Why don't you join us in the conference room first?  Get a feeling for where Neal works."  
  
"Sounds good."    
  
Neal waited till Glenhardt was out the door and Peter was about to follow, before grabbing the agent's arm.  "What is she doing here?" he asked in an urgent whisper.  
  
"You have nothing to worry about."  
  
"Really?" Neal didn't take his eyes off Glenhardt, standing outside and surveying the FBI offices.  "I'm having flashbacks to my commutation hearing.  And you know how that ended."  
  
Peter followed Neal's line of sight.  "Neal, releax.  She might be a little off-putting, but she's just a social worker... she's going to file a report, maybe make a couple of recommendations.  That's it."  
  
Neal didn't see why this was supposed to make him relax.    
  
"She wants to know you're on the right path," Peter continued, "Nothing to worry about."  
  
Not that Neal had much of a choice.  She was here, he had to deal with it.  Peter herded him out.  "Come on.  Let's show her how much you're helping law and justice."  
  
  
\-----------  
  
Apparently Peter meant that literally.  The other agents had no idea who this woman was, sitting in the back scribbling notes, but it didn't take a genius to figure out she had something to do with Neal.  They followed Peter's lead, cut down on joking comments about his alleged crimes and gave him center stage throughout the meeting.  Luckily for him, he had good news all around from his previous night's work.  
  
Once the meeting was over and people started filing out, Linda came over.  "Neal, I didn't realize you were doing undercover work for the FBI."  
  
Peter caught the question before Neal could answer.  "Oh, yeah." The agent had moved down the room to stand by them both.  He clapped a hand on Neal's shoulder.  "Neal's been helping us wherever he can.  Volunteering overtime.  I can't count the number of criminals we busted with his help."  
  
"Hm."  The social worker gave Neal a look he couldn't classify, and then turned to Peter.  "Would it be OK if I took a look at your recent case files?  Say, going back three months or so?"  
  
"Sure.  I can clear out an office for you, if you want to sit here and review them."  
  
"I'm sure you won't want me in your hair," she answered with a slight smile.  "Can you send them to my office?"  
  
  
\-----------  
  
Neal had suggested they talk in a nearby park - fresh air, sunshine and greenery were always good for a friendly chat - and on the way he suggested they stop to get coffee.  A warm cup in one's hands did wonders for a more positive, open attitude.    
  
That part of his plan went awry the minute they sat down on one of the park benches.  Glendhardt put her coffee on the bench, next to her bag, where it stayed for the rest of their little chat. She produced a notebook with his name on it, and flipped through it.  "It's kind of a weird position you've been put in, Neal, having to rat on your friends to stay out of jail."  
  
She said it in an offhand manner, but Neal didn't think anything about this woman was offhand.  "They're not my friends, they're criminals.  I know I've been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Linda, I'm not going to mess this up."  All he had to do was tell this woman what she wanted to hear - that he was on the path to complete rehabilitation, that he was low-risk for recidivism - so her report will be a good one for him.  
  
She glanced up from her papers.  "You did escape a few months back."  
  
Neal smiled easily.  "Momentary lapse in concentration.  I made a mistake, but I owned up to it, and I came back.  Is that why you've been sent now?"  He could see no harm in asking.  
  
Linda shook her head.  "No.. actually, this is our standard protocol now for all inmates on early-release programs.  Your file fell through the cracks since you're working for the FBI.  My predecessor didn't think your case required review, but I wanted to make sure everything was OK before signing off on it."  
  
"Lucky me." Neal muttered under his breath.  
  
Linda didn't seem to notice.  "My task is to ensure that once you're released, you'll be able to quickly integrate back into society."  
  
"That's my goal."  Neal thought he was already fully integrated, but it never hurt to show you're striving to improve.  
  
"I'm glad we're on the same page."  She scribbled something in her notebook.    
  
Neal narrowed his eyes at that, but by the time she glanced up again, his features softened back into a smile.  
  
"I see Agent Burke is very impressed with you."  
  
"The feeling's mutual.  I wouldn't be where I am today without Peter."  Neal had no problems being completely honest on this point.  
  
"And you've earned the respect of your co-workers, that's very impressive," she continued.  
  
Neal just shrugged modestly.  "I do my best."  
  
"Usually parolees don't spend their days with their PO.  It's not difficult for you, having to work so closely with the man you answer to?"  
  
Neal might have qualified it as 'challenging', particularly when he was working on his own agenda under Peter's nose.  But 'difficult'?  "Peter is not your regular PO.  He cares.  And he's a friend."  Neal leaned back, "Besides.. this setup was my idea."  
  
"Your idea?"  She looked at him quizzically.  
  
"Yeah.  I mean, I did it because it was a way to get out of jail -"  No reason to mention Kate "-but things have changed since then.  In fact, I'd like to continue working with the FBI after my release."  
  
This all seemed new to her, she obviously didn't expect it.  "Really?  Why is that?"  
  
He looked at her earnestly.  "I've turned my life around.  I have good friends, a rewarding job, a future I look forward to.  What else can I ask for?"     
  
"So you feel you've found your place in life?" She prompted.  
  
"Yes, definitely."    
  
She returned his smile.  Maybe Peter was right, maybe he had nothing to worry about. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  


"Honey?  Everything's OK?"

Peter was watching a game, Elizabeth snuggled against him reading a book.  But Peter seemed completely preoccupied with something else.  He was playing with his phone, turning it over and over in his hands.  

At her question, he roused himself.  "Yeah, yeah.."  He glanced at her, realizing that he didn't look at all like everything was OK.  "There was, there was just this social worker who came by today, from Neal's prison.  Glenhardt.  Linda Glenhardt."

Elizabeth was still trying to figure out what was bothering her husband.  "You think she might cause him problems?"

"Well, I don't think she likes me.  But otherwise.. no, I don't think so.  But the whole thing did put Neal on edge."

"You think she noticed?"

"Oh, no, he's the picture-perfect charmer around her.  I'm just afraid he'll-"

"-do something stupid?" Elizabeth filled in with sudden realization.

"More or less."  Peter sighed.   "And he's off-anklet at the moment."  Neal might be approached any minute now by the Russia Mafia, and here he was concerned that he might be worried about a social worker. 

El nodded towards the phone in her husband's hands.  "Why don't you call him?"

"You think I should?"  Peter knew he was practically begging to be told to call.  But still.

"Sure.  Ask him how he's doing."

 

\-----------------------

 

"Peter." Neal sounded somewhat distracted when he answered.  "Everything's alright?"

"Yeah, yeah.. I just wanted to check how you're doing."  El gave him a 'go on!' look.  "You were worried at work."

"Ah.. that.  Yeah, I'm done worrying, Peter." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, it's like you said, she's a social worker, she's not going to be doing much, right?"

"Right."  Peter wasn't sure whether to believe him.  He got the distinct feeling Neal was trying to calm *him* down.  

"I'm fine, Peter.  You don't need to worry about me."

"Ok, good, good."  Peter wasn't sure what more he could add to that.  "Have a goodnight."  He hung up the phone, turning it over in his hands.

"So?" El didn't get much from Peter's side of the conversation.

He shrugged.  "He says he's not worried anymore."  

"That's good, right?"

Peter shook his head with a sigh.  "I don't know."

 

\-----------------------

Neal put down the phone with a sigh of his own.  He didn't exactly lie to Peter.  He was really done worrying.  In the sense that now he was doing something.

"Suit's worried about you?"  Mozzie asked across the table as he refilled his glass.  Together they were halfway through a bottle of Chardonnay.  

Neal just waved the question off, wanting to get back to business.  Moz had somehow managed to put his hands on Glenhardt's employee file.  Neal didn't ask, but he did wonder how many people in Sing Sing were on Mozzie's payroll.  Or blackmail-roll. 

He flipped through the file.  There wasn't much there.

"Your Sing Sing lady is Miss Goody Two-Shoes personified."  Mozzie added.  "Couldn't get any dirt on her."

"She got a law degree," Neal was only half-listening to Mozzie as he read off the file, "worked for two years in corporate law, could have made partner easily, but then switched to social work." He looked up at Mozzie.  "And now she works in a prison."  

"Idealistic lady."  Mozz shook his head at the thought. 

A prison employee who believed she was going to make a difference.  This was getting worse and worse by the minute. 

"You could use your looks and charm.." Mozzie contemplated.  "Sweep her off her feet."

Neal waved off that idea.  "I don't think I'm up for a long con at the moment.  Look where it got me with Sara."

"She spoke in your favor in that hearing."

"Hm."  Neal didn't like to be reminded of that hearing.  "Besides, Mozz, I don't think it will work with this woman."

Mozzie finished his glass.  "Well, you've got one thing working to your advantage."

"What's that?"

"Given Sing Sing's demographics, this woman is most likely used to working with murderers and rapists, she has no experience with con-men."

 

\----------------------

Neal was still perusing the file a few hours later, when June knocked on the door.  "Neal, you have a guest."

His landlady only accompanied guests the four flights up when she wanted to give Neal a few seconds of advance warning.  Not good.  He closed the file and went to open the door. Indeed, there was Glenhardt, standing besides June.  "Linda."

She smiled.  "Neal.  I hope it's not too late.  I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by."

"No, no.. come on in. "  He shot June a thankful glance, before he closed the door and waved Glenhardt towards the sofas.  "Please, have a seat."

Linda looked around for a moment, taking in the apartment, then moved over to the kitchen table.  She picked up the almost empty Chardonnay, turning it over to look at the label.   Neal watched her every move.  "You were in the neighborhood, you say?"   

She put the bottle down, and pulled a chair out to sit.  "I just had an interesting talk with your landlady."  She gestured vaguely around, "You've got yourself quite the place here."

"It's OK."  Neal picked up a glass and a new bottle and came to join her.

She laughed at that.  "Not your usual parolee fare."

"Hm."  Neal put the glass in front of Linda, then slid the file towards him.  "Let me get that out of the way.. I was just going over some work stuff."

"Agent Burke's got you working hard, I see."

Neal grinned.  "As long as it doesn't involve all-nighter stakeouts in the van, I'm happy to help out."

She watched him thoughtfully as he put the file away in his bedroom.  "You enjoy running cons for the FBI, Neal?"

The more offhandedly her questions sounded, the more it put Neal on alert.  And now alarm bells started ringing in his head.  "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?"  She looked at him quizzically.

He stopped to pick up a corkscrew, then joined her by the table.  "I enjoy helping the FBI."

"Hm."  Linda held his gaze for a second.  "I've got a few more questions, if you don't mind."

"Sure, go right ahead."   He started unscrewing the cork off the bottle.

Linda turned to get her bag, but just then her phone rang.  She looked at it, then rolled her eyes.  "Excuse me."

"Of course."  

She got up and moved over to the open patio door.  "Yes?  This isn't the best time.. "  her voice drifted off as she crossed the threshold.

Neal kept his eyes fixed on her figure while his fingers reached for her bag, hanging on the back of her chair.  A wallet, makeup, newspaper.. then his fingers closed on a notebook.  A quick look verified it was 'his'.  He pulled it out, and after a moment's hesitation, stuck it on the underside of the table.  

Linda was still talking on the phone, pacing around his patio.  He looked again inside her bag.  She also had a couple of his prison files.  Didn't this woman have anybody else to focus on?   The newspaper had a half-solved Sudoku.  Not interesting.  Then he noticed the other side of the paper - the want-ads section.  A couple were circled with green marker.  

A noise from his patio alerted him she was coming back and he smoothly pulled his hand away.

"Sorry about that.." Linda dropped her phone on the table.  "Where were we?"

"You were going to ask me some questions."

"Right."  She turned to her bag, rummaging through it for a moment.  "Hm."

Neal was the perfect face of innocence.  "What?"

"My notebook.  I was sure I had it."

Neal shook his head.  "Happens to me all the time."

"I'm 100%.. " After a moment of going through everything again, she started taking out everything she had in there, placing it on the table.    

Neal poured them both a glass of wine.  "When was the last time you saw it?"

"I was writing in it during the meeting this morning.  And I was sure I put it in my bag afterward."  She looked at the small pile she now had on the table, as if the notebook will suddenly appear.

"Maybe it's still there?"   

"God."  She didn't look happy.  "I'll look for it tomorrow.  Anyway, I'm here already, so-"

"If you want a piece of paper.."  Neal offered helpfully.

"No, no, it's OK."  She was still frowning in thought, but then shook it away.  "Sorry about that.  So, how did you get this place?"


	4. Chapter 4

  


The next morning Peter discovered Glenhardt in the conference room, leafing through her notebook.  "Can I help you?"

"What?  Oh, no.  I just forgot my notes here yesterday, apparently."

"Hm."  Peter put his hands in his pockets.  "Yeah, I hate when that happens."  

"I was sure I'd taken it with me.  By the way, I stopped by Caffrey's place yesterday.."  One.. plus one..  Luckily for Peter, Linda was still engrossed in her notebook, flipping the pages back and forth.  She couldn't see the sudden shock of realization.  "He was sitting there sipping a $30 Chardonnay."  She looked up at him.

"Yeah.. Neal has expensive tastes."

"Where does he get the money?  His allowance barely covers cigarettes.  Have you ever searched his place?"

"Look, with Neal, I want to develop a relationship of trust."  Peter wondered if his words sounded as empty as he felt right now.    

"Hm.  I've started reviewing his caseload.  Has he ever had to side with the FBI against a former accomplice of his?"  

Peter nodded.  "It's happened once or twice.  Neal knows he has a job to do, no matter who's our suspect."

"So he actually helped you put his friends behind bars?"  When Peter didn't answer, she continued on.  "See, the reason I'm asking, I can see he looks up to you, but I wonder if he's ever been forced to choose sides, because from what I've seen, Mr. Caffrey's living a life of crime."

"A life of crime?"  Peter laughed at that.  Neal had a criminal streak, Peter wasn't going to argue about that.  Hell, his proof was standing right in front of him.  But Neal was working hard to get it under control and had made great strides in that direction.  "Overstating things, maybe?"

"Think about it."  She dropped her notebook in her bag.  "He's running cons for you, lying, cheating, picking up his old aliases, and he's being rewarded for it.  What do you think he'll do once he's released?"

Peter's amusement turned to a frown.  Glenhardt was serious.  "Hold on.  He's a CI.  That's his job, to help the FBI. He-"

Linda waved that away.  "Mr. Caffrey is not a criminal snitch, that you can just ignore their crimes so they'll continue feeding you intel.  He's a convict.  And unless we take steps to ensure rehabilitation, he's going to relapse."

Peter put up a hand to stop the flow of words.  "I'm not going to deny he faces temptation all the time in this work, temptation to turn back to crime.  But he's proven he's changed."  Mostly.  "I'll vouch for it."

"You don't get it, do you?"  She shook her head in wonder.  "What Mr. Caffrey needs is an experienced parole officer, a job that doesn't encourage him to commit crimes, and a life that focuses him on the future instead of his criminal past."

"You're the one who's not getting it."   This woman was misreading everything.  

She smiled sarcastically.  "Tell me, does he he keep in touch with his old friends?"

Peter nodded.  "That's part of the job."

"Well, then, there's your problem."  She said it as if that explained everything.

"My problem."  He repeated.  

"Mr. Caffrey is an excellent asset for your work, I realize that.  But you're not doing him any favors here."

"Hold on-"

Linda wasn't going to let Peter stop her.  "You told me he knows not to cross the line, but he crosses it every day. For you."

"Like every other FBI agent."

"Mr. Caffrey is not an FBI agent.  He's a criminal."  She sounded like a teacher explaining something for the 100th time.

"Former criminal," Peter corrected.

The social worker ignored that.  "Sending him undercover is irresponsible, to say the least, and this will be reflected in my report.  Now, if you'll excuse me.. I have work to do."

She exited the room, leaving a frustrated Peter behind.

 

\-----------------------

 

Neal was sure Peter had been waiting in ambush for him, because the minute he stepped off the elevator, Peter was already standing by the railing.  "Neal!  Get up here!"

That caused a few heads to be raised around the bullpen.  Neal shrugged, and made his way over to Peter's office.

The FBI agent didn't waste time getting to his point.  "You stole from a prison employee!" He practically shouted the minute Neal walked past the door.

"Wouldn't be the first time."  Neal quipped, immediately realizing it was the wrong thing to say.  Peter looked like he was about to explode.  "Look, I didn't *steal* anything, I just *borrowed* her notebook for a couple of hours.  I put it back."

"God, Neal-"  Peter massaged his forehead.

"But that's not important.  Peter, Glendhardt's going to open my deal."

Despite himself, Peter paused.  "What do you mean?"

"It's all in her notes, Peter."  Neal came closer, lowering his voice.  "She thinks working for the FBI, for you, is encouraging my criminal tendencies."

"Maybe she has a point."  Peter glared at him, his anger reasserting itself.  "What were you thinking?  Oh, no, I know - you weren't thinking."  

Neal picked up his hands in defense.  "I understand you're upset."

"Damn right."

A sudden thought occurred to Neal.  "Does Glenhardt know?"

Peter shook his head.  "Not yet."  

At least that.  Despite Peter's equivocation, it wouldn't be in his interest to admit to Glenhardt his CI had stolen from her.  "Peter, you've got to help me."

"Help you what?  Run a con on your caseworker?"  Peter spit out the words.  "There's nothing I can do, Neal.  She's going to do her job, we'll do ours."

Neal stood silent, he hadn't expected Peter not to back him up on this one.

Peter must have felt the same, since he relented, slightly.  "If it comes down to it, I'm sure the FBI will fight to keep your deal here.  You're too valuable."

"Right."  Not good enough.  But Neal could see he wasn't going to get any better assurances.  Peter needed to calm down first.  

Back at desk, Neal pondered his options.  Finally he picked up a phone-book, flipping through it for a moment until he found what he was looking for.  He picked up the phone and dialed a number.  "Hi, I'm calling from Agent Burke's Office.  It's about the job you advertised." He glanced over at Peter's office. "Yeah, I'll hold."

 

 

**Epilogue:**

Linda had no idea how she got the job.  Most places thought she was too inexperienced in her field.  She hadn't thought she'd made a good impression during her interview, either.  She had to learn to keep her mouth shut, though for the life of her, she just couldn't help herself.  But to her surprise, she got a call saying they were very interested, and they wanted her to start immediately.

And so here she was, packing up her office at Sing Sing.  She added her notes to Neal Caffrey's file, and stacked it away.  She had actually been looking forward to taking on the FBI, the DOJ and God knows who else was responsible for placing a convict in such a position.  Now her replacement was going to have to deal with that. 

She just hoped they'll take the case more seriously than her predecessor.


End file.
